


no higher pleasure

by TheQueenInTheNorth



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Biting, Bloodplay, Choking, F/M, Mild Fluff, Unhealthy Relationships, but srsly it's bellamort so unhealthy trainwreck up in here, lack of boundaries, not actually that graphic tbh?, tbh i don't feel like doing actual stuff I'm sposed to do so have some smut, what even are these tags tho sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-25
Updated: 2016-07-25
Packaged: 2018-07-25 11:33:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7531090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheQueenInTheNorth/pseuds/TheQueenInTheNorth





	no higher pleasure

"A word, Bellatrix."

She turned around, already halfway to the door. She paused to run her fingers across Nagini's scales and the snake turned her attention from Burbage's corpse to Bellatrix, to nuzzle against her hand fondly. He'd reprimanded them both countless times about such silly affections but especially his familiar was insistent in the matter. Foremost when she thought him too harsh with Bellatrix. He'd stopped commenting, eventually, and left them to their cloying antics. Pet to pet, he mused wrily.

As the last of her fellow Death Eaters let the door fall closed behind himself, Bellatrix came to a halt infront of him."My lord?"

There was hope in her eyes, but apprehension, too. Maybe he _had_ been too harsh, afterall.

"Bella,"he said simply, reaching out to cup her cheek. She leaned into his touch without a second of hesitation, his derisivness already forgiven. It was almost too easy, really. He trailed his thumb across her lower lip."No higher pleasure. Is that so?"

"Well, I might have overstated that." Her mouth curled into a smirk. She looked up at him from under her lashes, a feigned demureness she knew would amuse him."Just slightly, perhaps."

 "Just slightly?"

A small gasp as he slid his hand into her hair, tugging just a tad too hard, tilting her face up towards him, exposing her throat. His words were a challenge, but so was the look she gave him. Their mouths crashed together ferociously, his hands grasping her hips hard enough to bruise, her nails scraping against the back of his neck. He captured her lower lip between his teeth, bit down until she moaned and he tasted blood.

He backed her against the table, lifted her up, made short work of her dress as she tore at his robes. Her teeth were at his throat, just this side of painful, just this side of playful. Her hands on his cock, his at her breast, between her legs, coaxing moans from her, answering with groans of his own, her breath hot against his skin.

And then he had her flat on her back, trailing a finger lazily down her chest, a wandless, unspoken, precise cutting spell. He licked the blood of her skin, let more pool, drew patterns on her skin with one hand, the other keeping her firmly down. Grinding against her, enough to make her writh and sigh, not enough to bring her any relief.

"Please,"she whimpered, rubbing against him as best she could manage with him pinning her hips down." _Please_."

He'd resolved to make her beg more a thousand times over, but in the end, it always was too hard when he was this desperate himself. She threw back her head as he thrust into her, exposing the vulnerable flesh of her throat to him once more.

His hand closed around her throat, almost reflexively, just that little bit too tight that she couldn't be sure he'd let her go this time. She covered his hand with her own, not making the slightest attempt to pry him off, her other hand cupping his cheek, legs pulling him closer, moans breathless for a whole other reason. Her eyes were blazing with need, and with something so sincere he didn't dare to put a name to it. He'd resolved to ignore it long ago. He tightened his grip, until there was a hint of blue to her lips, a hint of doubt in her eyes. Then he let go, buried his face against her neck, kissed and licked at the already-bruising skin, felt the shudder of her ragged breaths as much as he heard them.

Her voice came back to her quickly enough, desperate moans that bordered on sobs, her hips a fervent buck against his, her nails digging into his shoulders a plea for release. He felt her break his skin, pulled her hand to his mouth to suck his own blood from her fingers. She dragged him down for a kiss, claiming that heady, metallic taste for herself.

He shifted slightly, hit that spot that sent her crashing over the edge and him with her. He allowed himself a moment to catch his breath, to rest his forehead against hers and pretend not to notice her glowing smile, before drawing away and getting dressed. Bellatrix followed suit, using her wand to fix a few tears in her dress. She never bothered to show her battered skin the same courtesy. He suspected it was because she knew he liked his marks on her, and she liked what seeing them did to him.

She rose on tiptoes to press a short, entirely innocent kiss to his mouth before she left. He couldn't remember when he'd started allowing that. He couldn't bring himself to mind.


End file.
